Word: glowingly
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...seemed to be written chiefly as an antidote to the view that anyone who created Gregor Samsa must have been a dark and morbid character, though Brod's work is honest and engaging, we almost lose sight of all the self-torture in the radiance of the saint-like glow. Hayman's biography is more balanced, but also admiring (as anyone must be) of Kafka's incredible lack of cynicism, even as he was dying...
...neither abstractly bare and flexible nor ornately realistic in an attempt at complete geographical and temporal illusion. Instead, Alfred and his designers lovingly construct elements and vignettes. A trolley glides and creaks between disconcertingly realistic rails and wires--under a tastefully schematic tenement-surrounded lot whose metal underpinnings glow coppery in the retrospective glow of the lighting. Every so often a speech, or an unguarded exchange of glances, or a single character, leaps into relief, silhouetted against Alfred's loving gaze. Nostalgia and a craftsman's close attention gild each piece...
...York's playoff hopes, for both teams, have long since been dashed, but the glow remains. For once the Big Apple doesn't have to say, "Wait till next year." It can point...
...people...[long pause]...Men I mean") in a monotonous baby-doll voice uncannily reminscent of a T.V. commercial for an underarm deodorant called "Tickle." Both Martin and Peters approach their roles in a curiously stylized way, staring out of glazed eyes either vapidly (Peters) or with an intense manic glow (Martin). Only Jessica Harper, who plays the dull, frowsy Joan, seems to be able to travel comfortably between the make-believe world of the songs and her unhappy "real life" as Arthur's cuckolded wife. Perhaps if she had been in charge here, the movie--and even Arthur's thing...
...keep scholars guessing for decades. His works will probably last: Lolita is already available in an annotated critical edition. Still, there is something missing in all of Nabokov's work. His starchy aestheticism comes through as cold, crystalline, and almost inhuman. We wait in vain for that warm human glow that pervades all the works of Gogol, Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, and Chekhov. And his work lacks the psychological or emotional depth that might have compensated for the limited range of characters and situations. Nabokov must have been a fiery lecturer, but somehow the fire chills...